


for fear of moments stolen (i don’t want to say goodnight)

by dingletragedy



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, angst with a somewhat happy ending, kidnapping drama, probably very ooc but what can u do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:28:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22866352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dingletragedy/pseuds/dingletragedy
Summary: He hears Callum before he sees him.Suddenly the buzzing in his ears seems to ease up, it’s in his fingertips now, itching and desperate, his ears clear and alert to each sound made. The rustle of clothing, untied chains clanking, hurried, panicked breathing. And then finally, a mumbled, broken cry for help.And like a bullet to the chest, he can’t breathe, can’t think, everything cascading over him. There’s a prickling, pins and needles heat that flares up against his neck, a frantic panic fluttering his heart and curling putrid and wet against his ribs, like river water filling his lungs and turning rotten, slowly making the parts of him that are left erode to nothing.or, ben and jay rescue callum, finally.
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Comments: 17
Kudos: 132





	for fear of moments stolen (i don’t want to say goodnight)

**Author's Note:**

> hey hey! it’s me again! i don’t want to bang on about how much i hate this, n i’m scared to post it, because that’s all i ever do lmaoooo - but hey, here’s a fic!!!! <33

As Ben steps in to the warehouse, Jay firmly by his side, are no words for the weight that’s curled a fist into his stomach, pushing and pushing, dragging his heart down. It’s guilt, fear, pain; something he’s only felt once before.

_Paul._

In his ears there’s a buzz, under his wrist there’s a heavy pulse, in his chest a _thump-thump_ .It all makes him pause and look over his shoulder every so often, and he’s almost certain he can feel a flurry of footsteps trailing after them. He’s constantly waiting for something, _someone_ , to creep up on them and rip Ben’s world from under his feet.

He tries to breathe through it, the fear, but it hurts, and there’s so much spinning around in Ben’s head he can't focus on one thing. He can feel himself starting to panic, can feel his head beating against his skull, the buzzing in his ears unrelenting.

He hasn’t felt this way for a long time, maybe not ever, and it hits Ben now, how fucking close to the precipice he’s standing.  
  


“ _Callum!_ ” Ben wails, wails for _him._

The sheer terror in his own voice is unsettling to Ben, the sound ripped right from his throat, burning as it stretches its way up.

_Silence._

“Callum?” Jay tries, sounds concerned and articulate all at once.

_Silence._

“Callum? Where are you?” Ben calls out again. Each word is becoming harder to press out. “Callum, _please_.”

“Mate, I don’t think he’s here,” Jay says beside Ben. Words careful and slow, yet cutting. “Don’t look like anyone’s been here for a very long time.” 

Jay’s words makes Ben’s chest shake harder, the insecurities and worries that he’d pushed so deep in the dirt, that he’d stuck a stone over and watered so that grass grew thick, come scratching violently to the surface. Suddenly, he’s twenty years old again, alone in the streets of London, blood on his face and Paul nowhere to be seen.

“He has to be, Jay,” Ben says, pleads. _“Fuck, he has to—”_

“You love him, don’t you?” Jay asks then, gaze flicking to the red tie hanging loosely from Ben’s pocket.  
  
“More than anything,” Ben says, but it sounds sad even to his own ears. His voice laced with something akin to loss, mourning, things gone wrong. “I just—. God, I wish I’d told him, he doesn’t even—”  
  


He cuts himself off abruptly as he rounds a mental pole, stairs leading somewhere dark and unknown.

He hears Callum before he sees him.

Suddenly the buzzing in his ears seems to ease up, it’s in his fingertips now, itching and desperate, his ears clear and alert to each sound made. The rustle of clothing, untied chains clanking, hurried, panicked breathing. And then finally, a mumbled, broken cry for _help._

And like a bullet to the chest, he can’t breathe, _can’t think,_ everything cascading over him. There’s a prickling, pins and needles heat that flares up against his neck, a frantic panic fluttering his heart and curling putrid and wet against his ribs, like river water filling his lungs and turning rotten, slowly making the parts of him that are left erode to nothing.

“Ben,” he registers Jay saying, but it sounds distant and small against the tremors roaring his mind. _“Ben!_ The voice is coming from down there, by that skip.”

_The voice. Callum’s voice._

“I—I can’t,” he gasps, like he’s breaking the surface of the water all over again. “Can’t do this. What if, Jay—what if he’s—”

“No, no, you can,” Jay cuts in sharply. “You can do this. And you will. Because Callum needs you, mate.”

And Ben balks slightly, before: “Yeah. Yeah, he does.”

“Want some help getting down there?” Jay offers, looking only slightly unsure of himself as he eyes the drop below.

“No, I’ll be fine, just follow me down, yeah?” Fear has latched itself onto Ben’s throat now, and he’s about to choke on it, chest empty of air when his foot lowers on the first step on the ladder. 

It’s a steep drop straight down to where Callum is lay, the skip haunting and awful below.

When he reaches flat ground, Ben swivels his gaze, frantic and terror-stricken, heart falling into his stomach when he spots Callum.

“He’s here!” He calls frantically over his shoulder. “ _Fuck_ , Jay, he’s here. He’s here.”

_  
He’s alive._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_He’s alive._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Here, dappled in the slats of light that burst through the shadows of cracks and splits around them, Callum looks fragile and weak, slowly sinking further into himself with each step Ben takes closer. His breaths are heavy. When Ben and Jay’s eyes meet over Callum’s shaking shoulders, they’re reflective of each other, shiny and panicked.

Ben rushes over, brushes past Jay drop down onto the ground. There’s bile in his throat when he drops to Callum’s side.

“God,” he breathes, and his hands hover over Callum’s still form, shaking because he doesn’t know what to do. “ _Shit, Callum.”_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He’s awake, and that’s all that matters, so Ben clings and cries and clings and cries some more.

“Hey, hey, I’m here,” he breathes, a gentle finger tucking under Callum’s chin to lift his head. He’s wide-eyed and pale, his cheeks ashen, bruises blooming and cuts gashing, pain evident in his features. “You’re alright, yeah? Look at me. You’re alright.”

There’s a pause, a tiny breath, then, “Ben? That you?”

Ben closes his eyes, inhales, and clambers further towards Callum. “Yeah, it’s me.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Callum’s head tips, his eyes meeting Ben’s for the first time, and Ben sees everything in his eyes; the fear, the pain, the regret. It’s everything he wishes he could take away, but he can’t, he doesn’t know how.

“I’m sorry, Ben,” Callum whispers, reaching out for him, Ben grips his hand so tightly he’s sure it must hurt. He looks up at Ben with fear in his eyes, breathe raspy, head lolled to the side. Ben leans down and kisses his forehead, brushing his hair away as Callum whines high in his throat, shifting. “So sorry.”

Ben looks away and bites his lips into his mouth. Beside him, Jay kneels silently, fingers wrung together, face struck pale. He looks far away, lost in his own head. He hasn’t said a word, either.

_(Ben sees it, then, the slithers of fear and exhaustion that he knows he wears himself.)_

“Ssh, sh,” he whispers as he curls closer. Callum’s whimpering below him, thin arm slung over his stomach. When Ben lays a gentle hand on his shoulder, he starts to sob. “Hey—hey, it’s okay. It’s all over. It’s okay. You’re safe, ssh, you’re safe.”

“‘M scared, Ben,” Callum’s says, voice nothing but a feeble wobble, words torn from somewhere deep, reedy and wrecked. His cheeks are stained with tears and dewy blood, and Ben just doesn’t look as lost and helpless as he feels, though he knows that surely, he does.

“I know, I know,” he soothes as he gently brushes a hand against Callum’s fingers, wanting so desperately to hold on for life, but then Callum’s mouth screws up into a sticken, tiny cry, one that he tries to muffle by clamping his teeth together, legs kicking out. There’s too much going on in Ben’s head; the devastation of this, the fact that Callum has been trapped here so long, alone and scared.

“Can you move them?” Ben chokes out, finally tearing his eyes away from Callum’s face with a ragged breath, looking down to Callum’s fingers, red-raw and bruised, and then over to Jay, who has concern leaking from his own eyes, shining the room. “Can you move your fingers?”

Callum nods slowly, wiggles his fingers like they weigh a tonne each. Slow, stuttered. He still doesn’t look present, looks lost in his own head.

“That's good, that’s good. You’re going to be okay,” Ben breathes, over and over. He almost chokes on the words, lungs constricting. “I promise.”

“Keanu?” Callum says, watery eyed and wrought with an anguish that Ben understands, not with words, but with a look. He doesn't need the words. Instead, he just leans their heads together, Callum’s temple against Ben’s chin, and they huddle that way.

“He’s gone,” Jay says quietly. Ben looks up, hates that there are tears in his brothers eyes too. “Made sure of that.”

“Thank you,” Callum whispers. He wipes at his eyes with the heel of his palm.

Outside, sunshot rays are bursting through thick clouds and lighting the entire warehouse; all the panic, all the blood and tears. Ben can’t be sure he’s not hallucinating, how can things look so still, so peaceful, so beautiful, when lives have been lost and hearts broken too.

_It’s not fair._

_It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair._

He repeats it, over and over, blood bubbling in his veins as his chest heaves. He wants to yell, to scream, wants to crack the windows open and yell to the whole city, to the whole world. He wants to say: _Why? Why him?_ ** _Why not me?_** He wants to kick and thrash and scream like a child, wants to tears Keanu’s life apart.

But he can’t, because Callum _needs_ him. Needs his care, and needs his **love**.

“There’s something that I need to—”  
  
“Sh,” Callum pushes a finger to Ben’s mouth, fimble and shaky. “It alright, you don’t need to say any—”

 _“I love you, Callum.”_ The moment the words leave his mouth, he feels something tug in his chest, something welcomed and unexpected, yet certain, making his vision fuzzy, heart erratic, and somehow mind clearer than ever before. _“So much.”_

And with that, he thinks, his heart balances on the line. The line of life and death. He’s said what he’s wanted to say, needed to say, all this time, and now he just needs Callum to say something, _anything_ , because there’s a thread of nervousness winding through him not too. What if he says _No_ , _I_ _hate you, this is all your fault?_

“You do?” Callum questions eventually, tugging at Ben’s heart as he does.

“How could I not?” He says, biting down on his lip to try and control himself. “You make me feel so many good things. Make me want to be better. Even if I do keep messing it up.”

“I’m sorry,” Callum murmurs into the chilled air. “I’m sorry, I should’ve stopped him, shouldn’t of let him ask you for all that money, I—”  
  
“No, no,” Ben protests, whole heart aching with it. “I—I should’ve—fuck, I should’ve got you that money, Cal. I owed you that much.”

“No,” Callum says, hands moving to the dip of Ben’s shoulder, pulling him in close. “You don’t owe me anything, Ben. Nothing.”

“I’ve never cared about anyone the way I care about you, Callum, and I just—I fucking love you so much,” Ben admits, heart free-falling now. “I swear, I tried everything to get that money. Did everything I could, but my Dad—Callum, he said the money was coming, he swore and then, there was nothing, _no one._ Just please, please don’t ever think I didn’t try. Don’t ever think it’s because I didn’t love you.”

Callum’s brow creases, he bites his lip, pained from the cuts and bruises, Ben’s words or something else entirely. “Ben, I never thought that, not for one second. I know you.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“And I love you. God, I love you too.” Callum exhales the words, and this time, Ben is there to catch them.  
  


The skies are growing dark beyond the haunting wood now, dark skies bringing the weight of something deep black and blue with it, akin to a feeling that hasn’t left Ben’s chest for days now.

“I don’t want to die,” Calllum says, thrashing the blanket of silence.

Ben looks to him immediately, and in the balking second it takes for him to reply, his heart drips like cold honey down his spine to his toes and back into the rattling basket of his achy ribs.

“You won’t,” he says, slightly shaky because hearing Callum say anything like that makes for white noise, makes him feel blue and numb all over. Callum’s lip trembles. “Cal, look at me.”

Callum glances up, eyes shiny and shaking, bony wrists clicking together.

“You’re gonna be fine, okay?” Ben whispers, and maybe they’re the words he’s searching for himsel, maybe, he's just trying to convince himself. He kisses Callum’s forehead, brushes his hair back. “Everything is gonna be fine.”

He hushes Callum with another kiss, shaking his head as he pulls away. He feels too fierce for how quiet and still Callum is being, but the panic that’s settled like sludge in Ben’s chest is too much to let go.

“‘M so tired, Ben,” Callum says, tearing Ben from his thoughts of torment, Callum’s eyes slipping closed as he swallows thickly.

“No! Don’t you dare close your fucking eyes!” Ben shouts brokenly. “Stay with me! _Come on, Callum.”_

_“Can sleep now you’re ‘ere,” Che slurs, eyes hooded, body slack against the rubbish._

_"No, Cal, please," Ben says, but it comes out as more of a plead. "You have to stay awake, for me."_

He can’t lose him, he _refuses_ to lose him.

Callum’s eyes snap open. He searches, looks afraid. "What’s happened? Why are we—"

“We’ve gotta get him out of here,” Jay murmurs behind them suddenly. “Get him home, to the hospital. He needs ice and those cuts cleaned. Food, water, _warmth_.”

And Bens agreeing, nodding his head furiously until Callum pulls away and shakes his head, panicked.

“Cal, please,” Ben whispers desperately, heart kicking against his ribs. His eyes well up before he can stop them. “Jays right. We need to get you some help.”

“I can’t,” he chokes out. “I don’t want anyone to see me like this.”

God, he’ll drag Callum out of this warehouse with his bare hands if he has to, he’ll tear the world apart. Callum can’t die here, _he can’t._

“They ain’t going to,” Ben reassures him softly, trying to calm him with gentle strokes of his thumbs. “Alright? Just me and Jay, yeah?”

“Promise?” Callum sobs, hacking and pained. In the shadows of the warehouse, Callum’s eyes are dark and his skin is porcelain. Ben lets out a quiet breath, a tiny, broken sound as little tears fumble over his cheeks.

They sit there for what feels like forever, silent save for Callum’s rattling breath and his whimpered crying. Ben just keeps their hands clasped, just breaths and presses his mouth together to stop himself from crying, eyes stinging.

“ _Promise.”_

It’s hard to navigate in the dark. But between them, Ben one side of Callum, and Jay the other, tight like a vice-grip, they manage to get Callum standing on weak legs. They trip on three planks of wood and a chain, and Ben’s stomach lurches with each clumsy footfall, and each time, he has to pause to breathe, to listen, to make sure Callum’s doing the same.

His shoulders shake with minute little ticks, Callum’s stuttered whimpers muffled by Ben’s shirt there.

No one speaks for the longest time, they don’t dare. Ben’s grip on Callum’s waist doesn’t let up once, arms looped around him as if he’ll disappear. Callum keeps sneezing quietly and wiping his cheeks against Ben’s shoulders. Ben flicks between watching the side of his face and looking up to try and find their way in the dark, blinking the threat of his own misty tears away.

It’s so quiet, Ben doesn’t need to close his eyes to hear Callum breathe, long and measured at first, like he’s trying to keep himself calm. It starts to speed up though, goes shuddery and soft, and when Ben looks over again, Callum has a palm over his eyes, squeezing at the skin of his temples as he starts to cry again, head bowing forward.  
  
“Callum,” Ben says, hand half frozen between them. “We’re nearly there, alright? We’re nearly out.”  
  
“I can’t,” Callum whispers, stricken and broken. He swallows wetly. “‘M tired.”  
  
“I know, I know you are,” Ben leans forward to try and catch his eye, to desperately try and understand. He lets Jay take some of Callum’s weight. “You can sleep soon, I promise.”  
  
Another sob escapes Callum, one he clamps down on so quickly it becomes choked, a wet hiccup. “With you? Can’t sleep without you.”  
  
“You ain’t got to anymore, Callum,” Ben promises. “Not ever again.” 

It’s a slow process, but they make it to the car eventually. Ben’s entire body aches, muscles weak from the exertion of being in the water last night, but he pushed through it. _He’d push through anything for Callum._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Outside, everything seems eerily still, not a breath of wind blowing to unsettle the trees.

But in Ben’s heart, it’s chaos.   
  


Callum blinks Ben’s way tiredly once they’ve settled him in the car, and laying like this in the back seats, Ben can only see the cut of his eyes, really, the bridge of his nose and the splay of bruises blooming there.

“We’re almost there,” Ben says, praying there’s some truth behind his words, Jay’s erratic driving must be cutting off a considerable amount of their journey to the hospital. He leans down, kisses Callum’s forehead, then just leaves their faces resting close.

“I’m sorry, Callum. _So_ sorry.”

They stare at each other, half-gasping through their breaths and their tears, and Ben feels just a word away from his own death, from spilling everything between them because he’s so tired, he’s so _fucking_ tired, and even those words only sound half-true to his own ears because he can’t make sense of them himself, he can’t make sense of some of the things he’s done and some of the things that have happened.

“Ben,” Callum says, a fumble between their mouths. Their lips might touch but Ben can’t tell. He looks so distressed, eyes so desperate and full. Ben’s head is full of white noise, white noise and _Callum_ . “I’ve missed you so much.”  
  
“Don’t,” Ben shakes his head, their hair brushing together, Callum’s unkempt stubble tickling his chin. “ _Don’t_ .”  
  
It’s almost completely dark out now, the only light coming from Callum’s eyes, and the shiny wet reflecting off his cheeks. Callum has always been so bright.

“I’m sorry. I tried to get away—“

“Don’t you dare apologise,” Ben hisses. “Don’t you dare make any excuses for him. You shouldn’t have had to try and get away. This weren't your fight.”

“Ben,” Callum says tiredly, as if he doesn’t even know what he wants to say. His lead lolls forward, eyes shutting as exhaustion grips him, as hot flames lick at his ribs. “I tried—I really did. He wouldn’t—wouldn’t let me—“

“I know, babe. I know.”

"I was so scared Ben, scared I'd never see you again,” Callum says, voice wobbling around each syllable. “He left and suddenly I was the most afraid I’d been the whole time, because I was alone. I was alone, Ben, and I didn’t think—didn’t think anyone was coming to save me.”

Ben holds at Callum’s face, careful to avoid each and every scrape or bruise, finds that he can’t feel his own limbs much, an effect of the freezing water he’d left to see into his bones last night "I’d always find you Callum, always. I'm here. You're here. We're okay." He says, knows they aren't, that things are different now. _Callum is different now._

“What if—what if he’d killed you too?” Callum questions, small and broken, all the tears on his face refusing to drip, slathered along his cheeks and his jaw in a shiny film, turning dark and rotten when they mix with the blood. “What if he’s hurt other people to, Ben—”

They watch each other in silence, chests heaving. Ben just doesn’t know what Callum wants, he doesn’t know what he _needs_.

Ben’s mouth tastes bitter and salty when he tries to talk, trying to find the words. There’s another panic gripping his spine now, seeping through into the cracks between his ribs and wrapping long, spindly fingers around the bones there, pulling and pulling until he feels as though he’s about to burst.

Things have blown up and shattered and it’s too messy for him, to even begin trying to glue everything back together tonight. Ben’s head is in a million different places right now, trying to piece together and sort through a million different happening, and it’s all getting muddled up and twisted, blurring his vision.

The boat party, the crash, Keanu, Sharon, Phil, Mick and Linda, and Denny.

_God, Denny._

“Well,” Ben swallows, searching for the words, for something that makes sense, heart so heavy it feels like it’s straining against the cage of his ribs. “Don’t worry about anyone else right now, let’s just focus on getting you to hospital, getting you better. Yeah?”

“Okay,” Callum whispers, nodding slowly, and for once, Ben is grateful for the way Callum’s eyes flicker. “Okay.”

In the dark, he scrambles for one of the blankets he’d shoved on the back seat before him and Jay had lef. He tugs it over Callum, encasing him in a little protective bubble of warm cotton, as his own fingers tremble against the February chill.

Ben crawls towards him then, patterns of shadow shifting on Callum’s face as he moves. All his features are blurred by the wet pooling his vision, turning Callum round and soft on the edges, eyes deceiving Ben.

“Get some rest,” Ben whispers. His thumb brushes Callum’s eyebrow. Then, softer, distant, “You’re safe here.

_Callum won’t ever be the same again, Ben knows that, how could he be? But he’ll be there, to ease the memories, to wrap him up, through each and every sleepless night._

_He’ll give him as many happy memories as it takes to outweigh the bad._

**Author's Note:**

> i’m @dingletragedy on tumblr/twitter please come let me know what you thought! Xx


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